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Past Tense: Killing Dallas, part 2

He was the perfect man for the job. In the spring of 1881, when he was hired to be El Paso’s new marshal, Dallas Stoudenmire was an imposing figure, standing at six feet, two inches tall. And he was no stranger to violence, either.

Past Tense: Killing Dallas, part 2

He was the perfect man for the job. In the spring of 1881, when he was hired to be El Paso’s new marshal, Dallas Stoudenmire was an imposing figure, standing at six feet, two inches tall. And he was no stranger to violence, either.
After his stint with the Confederacy during the Civil War, Dallas had spent a few years fighting Indians as well as outlaws, with the Texas Rangers. He had, as they say, “paid his dues.”

At the time that Dallas took office, his predecessor, George Campbell, was drunkenly nursing a grudge against Stoudenmire for having taken his job. He had started this at the ranch of Johnny Hale, which stood approximately where modern Canutillo is located, and slowly worked his way into town. Both men would have parts to play in the upcoming surge of violence that would rock El Paso. Gus Krempkau, a former constable and Texas Ranger, would also play a pivotal role.

Stoudenmire’s first official act had been to relieve Assistant Marshal Bill Johnson of his badge and the keys to the jail. Dallas did this in such a way that even Johnson – whom everyone agreed was the town’s most notable drunk – was thoroughly humiliated.

The local “saloon crowd” (which was as near as El Paso had to organized crime in those days) began pouring drink after drink for Johnson, and sympathizing with him for what he had been forced to endure at the hands of the new marshal.

The gunfight begins

Meanwhile, other problems were brewing. Two Mexican vaqueros had been found murdered in the bosque near Canutillo. An inquest was being held where the modern Camino Real Paso del Norte Hotel is located when a force of some 75 enraged vaqueros, from just across the river at Juarez, rode into town and began storming up and down El Paso Street, demanding justice. However, while racial tensions were running high, there was no violence – yet.

A good deal of hostility from the Anglo element had been directed at constable Gus Krempkau, for the simple reason that he spoke Spanish and had been assisting with the interpreting duties. Many citizens were also enraged that the new Marshal (Stoudenmire) had not disarmed the Mexicans.

And it was at that point that former Marshal George Campbell – “heavily fortified with drink” – was noticed wandering up and down the street, demanding to know “where is our new marshal?” and stumbling around as though he was actually looking for Stoudenmire.
Of course, Campbell knew exactly where the marshal had gone – across the street to the Globe Restaurant, where he was having a quiet late lunch. It was April 14, 1881.
It was just at that moment that Campbell saw Gus Krempkau, who had walked up to his mule and was sliding his rifle into its scabbard, preparing to leave town. The very sight of the constable seemed to “aggravate Campbell’s alcoholic bellicosity.”

“Any American that is a friend to Mexicans ought to be hanged!” shouted the drunken former marshal. Krempkau was not that easily provoked, though. “George,” he said quietly, “I hope you don’t mean me.” Campbell snapped his fingers in the air and responded, “If the shoe fits, wear it!” However, this was about as far as George seemed willing to take his belligerence. With his finger-snapping final remark, he turned and walked over to his own mule, reaching for the reins.

But George had not taken his friend, John Hale, into consideration. Easily as drunk as Campbell, Hale had been sitting in the window near the door of Keating’s Saloon, watching the exchange between Campbell and Krempkau. Getting to his feet, Hale rushed over to Campbell, and shoving his .45 under Campbell’s arm, shouted “Turn loose, Campbell! I’ve got him covered!”

Without further ado, and clearly using the body of his friend Campbell for cover, Hale opened fire. The bullet crashed into Krempkau’s chest, ripping through his lungs. Krempkau was a tough one, though, and despite the fact that he was mortally wounded, managed to draw his own revolver, even as he began to fall.
A moment later, Stoudenmire emerged from the Globe Restaurant, his long-barreled pistol in his right hand, and the little sawed-off pistol he called his “belly gun” in his left. Behind him, his friend and brother-in-law, Doc Cummings, followed with a shotgun. What happened next happened so fast that Cummings never even had the opportunity to fire the shotgun.